Trashy
by xoxoLee
Summary: Every day is the same but you do what you have to in order to live. People say that she's trashy, and yeah, it's probably true. But it's out of her hands.


"No, I'm sorry, I have no clue what you're talking about," the young blonde said as she looked up at the boy trying to instruct her. The boy was leaning over her shoulder, pointing out the country of Greece and looking annoyed beyond belief. "Forget it," he mumbled as he slowly slipped back into the crowd of teens. Her head was pained so much that she had to cover her eyes from the light's damage. One day, her life was going to be the death of her.

In her mind she heard it everywhere she went. Whether it was at church or in the tanning salon, the throbbing bass of the music was nipping at her heels. Like a bad horror movie, no matter what lengths she went to escape it, she couldn't. She had tried singing at the top of her lungs, only to frown with disgust at her voice. She tried to whistle over it, but that didn't sound much better. Drowning in it seemed like the only way out.

Covering her eyes didn't help much either. You try to get rid of one sense and it strengthens the others. Geography wasn't her best skill, but she was always good at remembering things that didn't seem very useful. The lights were still burning her retinas. Just by remembering them she could feel the tingling sensation of panic at the realization that she couldn't see. All she saw was a bright white light that sometimes flashed different colors. And the bass was there too.

Clearing her throat as she pushed her thought away, the girl reached up to her tie and loosened it. Uniform or not, she really didn't care anymore. As far as she was concerned, what she was doing was vital for her survival and mental well being. "You know that if Sister Peters comes in and sees you she'll send you straight to the headmaster's office, right?" It was a girl, Rebecca, she thought, with a pug nose and black rimmed glasses. Her voice was the kind that tried to sound sincere even if you could hear the laughter behind it.

The laughter was there. Her head was throbbing at a steady beat as her ear drums were trampled by voices. "Come on, Sweetheart, turn around." The smell of liquor that stretched for miles. "Nothing to worry about, darling." A lie. "You're disgusting. They'll let anyone into a Catholic School, these days. Even if they know you're going to Hell." A finger pointing in her direction. "Sssh. Shut up for a minute. There she is." The eyes that were on her back as she splashed her face with water in the restroom's sink.

The thoughts and the reality would just repeat anyway.

"Class," the thin, bony woman standing in the doorway said, her nose permanently turned up in the air. "Dismissed." Slamming her book shut and tucking it under her arm, she was the first one to leave the room. Another repeat that Sister Peters wasn't very fond of. While her so-called peers filed out of their classrooms and headed to their lockers, smiling and laughing, she looked down at the floor as she walked straight to the back exit. By the time the door was in view, she was jogging home.

Home. Or that's what they called it. "Mike?" She called out as the old door to the apartment creaked open. With a small gap, the cat that had been allowed to stay with them slipped out. Forcing the door open, crushing a pile of junk filled boxes in the process, she suddenly couldn't blame the cat. A cloud of smoke seemed to hover over the living room furniture. Maybe it was from the cigarettes cluttered at the bottom of the ash try. Or maybe it was from lightning that could have followed the storm that ravaged their living quarters.

"Honey, are you home?" She tried once again as she climbed over the wreckage and to the kitchen. There was no response. It was as she opened the refrigerator door, to discover there was only a carton of eggs, a bottle of spoiled milk and a stick of margarine, that she noticed the paper hanging down from the top of the fridge. Letting the door close by itself, kicking it lightly to fully close it, she brought it down to read it.

"Kelly, I'm gone. Don't know when I'll be back, but it'll be some time tomorrow. Money for the cab is on the counter. Call me at the club when you get there and when you leave. Don't forget to take ten dollars and put the rest of the money in the safe." A heartfelt letter, she had to say.

But as she walked to the bedroom, stripping out of her school uniform, she remembered that it was what she had to do.


End file.
